


Charles was the Taste of Red Wine

by WhyMrSpook



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Consensual, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff and Smut, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Possessive Behavior, Protective Erik, X Mansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles was the taste of red wine. He was lips far too pink to be real, dragging down his skin like there was nothing in the world he’d rather be tasting. Charles was round, blue eyes like clear pools that Erik had no choice but to dive in to without consideration for his own self-preservation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charles was the Taste of Red Wine

Charles was the taste of red wine. He was lips far too pink to be real, dragging down his skin like there was nothing in the world he’d rather be tasting. Charles was round, blue eyes like clear pools that Erik had no choice but to dive in to without consideration for his own self-preservation. He was a small, lithe body that shuddered and reacted to the slightest touch. He was a whimper, a desperate plea for release. He was breathy gasps of laughter and smiles, interrupted by lust. He was hands clutching, fingernails dragging down Erik’s back. He was thoughts tangled in feelings and projected like screams in their minds. Charles was a gentle touch to the arm; inconspicuous but louder than anything else in the room to Erik. He was rambling and passionate in the privacy of the car, miles of highway lost to the sound of his sweet, excited voice. He was a sleepy warmth against his side as the sun set, and then a bundle of energy as the sun rose. He was a force to be reckoned with; a power like nothing Erik had seen before in his life. He was the smell of ink and whatever aftershave he’d been given that he wore just to please his sister. He was nimble hands opening bottles of whatever alcohol he could find. He was a mischievous grin as he knocked back a shot. He was unending kisses in the still of night, sweet nothings whispered into his hair when nightmares wouldn’t leave him. He was reassurance that Erik wasn’t alone in the world.

“You romanticise me, darling.”

Even as he spoke, the setting sun cast warm light on his face, creating shadows like art on a pale canvas. There were bags under his eyes and a crease between his brows like he fighting back a headache. He was beautiful. He was a divine creature; a young god illuminated in the dying sun.

“I’m nearly thirty, love.” But a smile tugged at Charles’ lip and Erik felt the familiar warmth of Charles in his mind, his consciousness swirling in tendrils through his thoughts and emotions. Never intrusive, never uninvited. Always a soft gentle touch like fingers working through his hair. His cheeks tinged pink as he saw through Erik’s eyes and he cast those big blue eyes back out the window.

Charles didn’t see himself as Erik saw him. For all the arrogance and suave charm, he still saw a small, defenceless academic when he looked in the mirror. It killed Erik. Charles was no longer the ten-year old with voices in his head. He was a god amongst men. But better than that, he was Erik’s.

“If you don’t stop this, darling, Raven will have you shot for inflating my ego even more.” He put his wine glass down, anyway, not truly protesting.

“I don’t care.” He had the door to the library closing before he’d even moved out of his chair, the metal fusing together with a hiss to prevent any pestering children finding their way to intruding on their time together. Not that any of the children would bother with a library when they had an entire mansion at their disposal.

Erik didn’t care about the mansion. He had an entire Charles to himself, and that could occupy him for much longer. He’d spend hours tracing every soft line on his body if he could- he’d waste a hundred nights breathing in Charles’ scent.

“You are mine.” He repeated aloud, teeth grazing at the pale expanse of Charles’ neck as he tilted his head back, welcoming the touch. “You are mine at night, when the world is dead and my voice is the only thing you can hear in your mind and all around you.” He took his time unbuttoning Charles’ shirt, kissing down his chest and revelling in the man beneath him, breaths stilted already, his hands cupping Erik’s head softly. “Your hands belong to my hair. Your skin belongs to my mouth.” That elicited a gasp that Erik couldn’t ever bring himself to regret. “Your mind belongs in mine, Charles, and your body belongs with mine.”

“Yes- yours- Erik.” Charles was trying to climb off the chair, trying to touch him and gasping in frustration when Erik stopped him. “I’m yours.” He repeated, his mind in Erik’s head like a fire, burning with such intensity it was a wonder Charles ever lasted at all. But he always did and the fire never truly died- burning with just as much passion the next time it was called for. He was an infinite source of wonder and raw desire.

Erik grinned against his stomach, his eyelashes brushing against the skin there lightly. “And I’m yours.”

The fire roared, flames leaping at him like animals. Charles’ pretty blue eyes were black with lust, staring down at him like he’d keep Erik between his legs forever if he could. Erik wouldn’t mind, but he knew the feeling wouldn’t last. Charles would much rather be on the floor or in a bed, curled up at Erik’s side. But, for now, he was desperate with desire.

“Mine.” He murmured, hands roaming Erik’s hair again. “You are mine, Erik.” He breathed sharply when Erik tugged at his waistband. “You’re a fucking Adonis, you know. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. You’re _everything_.” His mind only consolidated his words, the feeling of Erik- the sensations he felt, overwhelming him, Erik felt all of it.

Charles was a writhing, whimpering echo of the prim Professor everyone else saw him as. His hands weren’t gentle anymore, they were tugging at Erik’s hair like he’d slip from the chair without the aid. His nails were digging into Erik’s neck- not painful, not to Erik, but certainly hard enough to leave a mark. They always marked each other. _Mine._ Charles’ mind said, when physically speaking out loud became an impossibility. _You belong in my bed. You’re never going to put your mouth on anyone else. You’ll never fill anyone like you do me. You’ll never fall asleep next to anyone else._ Ah, Erik loved possessive Charles. Charles was possessive only when he needed the reassurance that Erik wasn’t going anywhere, and Erik was more than happy to oblige him. He even encouraged it. Charles needed him and he needed Charles.

His mouth worked the man in the chair to the brink of ecstasy. He knew all the best ways to work Charles to that point. He knew how to keep him on the edge- how to make the world fade away, even when the sensations in his mind were distracting him as badly as they were now.

Charles wanted release. Charles begged for just that little bit more- just to tip him over the edge, undoubtedly bringing Erik with him like a wave rushing them out to the depths of the ocean, where they were weightless and alone and the only thing they could feel was each other.

 _Tell me what you want, Liebling._ Erik thought, his mouth rather preoccupied.

He was rewarded with a tough pull at his head, forcing his mouth down. He half-chuckled at the need Charles was projecting, even if he felt it himself just as strongly. Vibrations moved down this throat and Charles’ reaction was spectacular. 

“Mine.” Charles ground out. “You’re fucking mine, Erik, please- let me- I have to-”

Release came swiftly. Erik couldn’t possibly have lasted with that sweet, persuasive voice begging him so desperately. Charles was a master of diplomacy. He’d convinced the CIA and countless mutants, without use of his powers even. He’d talked his way into and out of a dozen dangerous situations since Erik had known him. But only Erik could reduce him to a speechless wreck, shuddering in his afterglow and panting- leaning against Erik’s body helplessly.

For his part, Erik wasn’t doing much better. He caught his breath as best he could, before Charles dragged his mouth to his own for a filthy kiss. Charles liked to taste himself on Erik. Charles was everywhere in his mouth, groaning and arching ever closer to him. Charles was the taste of red wine, and he was positively exquisite.


End file.
